


Best Kept Secret

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Choking, Crying, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Throat Fucking, Very Dark Undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: It is the only use that this wretched, pitiful creature has left.  Nevertheless, he accepts his task with the utmost gratitude.





	Best Kept Secret

Trapped in his little haze and closed off to the rest of the world, Mitsuhide couldn’t remember anything else other than this world of bliss. Gentle and floating and painful all that the same time. Hideyoshi-dono had been ever so good to him, oh he knew what it must have been like, to suddenly have Nobunaga-kou ripped away from the world even _when_ there were none that stood behind or in front of him. Hideyoshi-dono who had been so good as to keep him, because death would be too merciful – Mitsuhide agreed.

Forever he would belong here, to another, to not-Nobunaga-kou, what a fitting punishment to suit the worst of crimes – betrayal, and of one’s own Lord no less, but never had Mitsuhide imagined that this retribution would be so full of ecstasy. 

He was lying on his back, Hideyoshi-dono’s firm hand planted squarely on his heaving chest as his merciless executioner pushed his hips forwards pushing thrusting inching that heavy, thick cock past his lips down his throat he could feel every inch of him straining, what was left of his gag reflex feebly protesting even as he saw spots and welcomed the oncoming darkness. Here he had a use, here he had a purpose and a function.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on him, Hideyoshi. The poor thing can only take so much.”

Ah, yes, the brilliant tactician, the one who truly held the leash. Mitsuhide shivered, that voice sending crawling, tickling sensations down his spine even though he couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see _anything_ where he was currently situated, and there was no way for him to tell _where_ he was until another hand, gentler and much more delicate in touch, came to rest on his side. 

“Then again, you _are_ doing remarkably well.” 

Hideyoshi, who had held still for the time being, resumed his slow, torturous movement, Mitsuhide frantically swallowing around his mouthful, lips stretched and throat bulging, the inner muscles of his throat fluttering and flexing against the welcomed invasion. 

“I wonder if he’s done the same for Lord Nobunaga.”

Mitsuhide whimpered. Hideyoshi's response was a wordless grunt, a slight flexing of the fingers splayed across his chest, a thrust so powerful that Mitsuhide nearly screamed – something must have torn, there was no way he wasn’t bleeding, and yet he wanted it to never end, he wanted to push these limits until he broke and suddenly, he understood why Hanbei-sama and Mitsunari-sama and even Ieyasu had placed their faith in this man. He was deliberate, unwavering in everything he did, dominating in a way that left no room for hesitation or doubt. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has – look how _eager_ he is, dear thing.” 

Mitsuhide sobbed brokenly and choked, trying to push himself back, to take his gracious savior deeper. Let me show you my gratitude, he wanted to scream, let me show you how good of you it was to save me when there was nothing left of me to save. There was no rush, no desperation in Hideyoshi's movements, even when Mitsuhide thrashed beneath him, saliva dripping from the corners of his lips as he whined deep in his throat. Hideyoshi groaned, low and rumbling from the very bottom of his chest and Mitsuhide could have sworn that he _felt_ it. Hanbei-sama clicked his tongue from somewhere up above him.

“Hideyoshi, dear friend – how long have you kept him waiting? Don’t be so impolite.”

Hideyoshi stopped moving entirely and Mitsuhide would have _screamed_ if his throat wasn’t stretched to its maximum already, it was with relief when he felt Hideyoshi’s hands move from his chest to his throat and then upwards, cupping his sore jaw with such tenderness that it was almost insulting. But Mitsuhide, ultimately, could not protest – he had no right, after the graciousness that had been shown to him, and especially once Hideyoshi started to thrust his hips rhythmically forwards all while holding him still, unforgiving and undeniable. This was his justice. Mitsuhide could not bring himself to complain.

There was a brief moment of pause where Hideyoshi stepped back entirely, allowing Mitsuhide to take a single desperate gasp of air.

“Ruin me,” he rasped, and then his head was forced back again as Hideyoshi thrust into Mitsuhide’s mouth, his throat, all the way to the very base, his only sounds of response being those rhythmic, animalistic grunts as he set a punishing tempo, plunging deeper into Mitsuhide’s throat than he ever would have thought was possible. How he’d not suffocated already, he didn’t know – but Mitsuhide certainly didn’t mind, he had never cared much for his own mortal limitations, he would show Hideyoshi-dono just how useful of a servant he could truly be, and how devoted to Nobunaga-kou he once was (and forever would be).

How good of Hideyoshi-dono to oblige him, to grant his wish to be destroyed in the best possible way, he could imagine no better death, it would be a long and drawn out process, it would be agonizing, it would be painful, such would be his sentence and he would embrace it with everything he had _in_ him. He swallowed painfully around that delightfully thick cock, trying his best to imagine that he could _feel_ Hideyoshi pulsing, throbbing inside of his throat. He wasn’t good enough to be taken _by_ him, but Mitsuhide was determined to prove that he did indeed have a use, a function left. Hidden away from the world, perhaps, too disgraced to ever bear a title again, but this was fine – it was all just perfect, it had never meant anything to him anyways, it was only ever the thrill and the rush and the completion and while Nobunaga would always own him until the very day his soul perished he had never _dreamed_ that Hideyoshi was capable of such beautiful brutality.

“He might never be able to speak again after this,” Hanbei mused, “you ought to be gentle.”

“You _heard_ him, Hanbei,” Hideyoshi growled, “The bastard doesn’t _want_ gentle.” And he couldn’t have treated the traitor with even the slightest modicum of care if he wanted to – this was his due punishment, and to some degree it was also a crime that he was enjoying it so. Ultimately, he was the true victor of this war, and all three of them knew it – Nobunaga’s wretched soul, wherever it was, probably had known as well.

Mitsuhide, a mess of his own tears and tangled hair, couldn’t have agreed more. This was divine retribution at its finest, the way that his lips stretched and wrapped around the shaft, the musk that overpowered every single one of his senses beyond a doubt, the punishing grip on his throat and his jaw that would leave behind dark bruises oh yes oh yes, the rapid pace of Hideyoshi-dono’s ragged breath and the irregular, erratic thrusts that provided only the slightest of warnings to Mitsuhide before he stilled and tensed with a sound like a roar, coupled with Hanbei’s cruelly amused laughter as ropes and ropes of his thick come spilled down Mitsuhide’s throat, into his mouth as he withdrew, leaving him a wheezing and sticky mess. He was trying to breathe and to swallow all at the same time, so wretchedly empty, and the mocking words of comfort that Hanbei-sama offered him made the wounds, both physical and metaphorical, sting even more.

“You are terribly lucky, Akechi Mitsuhide,” Hanbei whispered, “that Hideyoshi-sama has found a use for you, despite my doubts.” He smeared some of the remains of his Lord’s climax away from the reddened edge of Mitsuhide’s lips with a mixture of disgust and marvel. “It seems you _are_ good for something after all.” 

Mitsuhide, temporarily voiceless, nodded feebly, hanging onto his every word. That was all he had wanted to hear. That was all he had _ever_ wanted to hear.


End file.
